Page 52 of Deacon

That bite had been there when she was a kid and sharpened every year afterward. Jesus, I had missed it.

Nomad tipped his head. “I’m observant.”

“You’re nosy.”

“Sometimes those are cousins.”

Lila folded her arms. “You know, I have access to sedatives in this building.”

Ledger barked out a laugh, and my smile broke loose with his.

She turned toward me immediately. “Oh, don’t you start.”

My brows lifted. “What’d I do?”

“You’re enjoying this.”

“Maybe a little.”

Her lips pressed together while color crept higher into her face. “You are supposed to be resting, Jackson, not encouraging bad behavior.”

I held her gaze, too aware of every inch separating us. “Thought maybe you liked bad behavior.”

That landed.

Something flashed through her eyes, and for one bright second I saw eighteen-year-old Lila beneath the woman standing in front of me. Same sharp mouth. Same courage. Same heart I had never deserved.

“You are in absolutely no condition to flirt,” she said.

Nomad made a thoughtful sound. “That was flirtin’?”

Lila pointed toward him without taking her eyes off me. “I’m going to need you to stop existing for five minutes.”

Ledger laughed harder.

I joined him once, then the pull beneath my ribs reminded me that spite and hospital stitching were doing most of the work holding me together. Pain tightened my face before I could hide it.

Lila noticed immediately.

All the heat disappeared beneath clinical focus as she moved closer and checked the monitor, my lines, then the rhythm of my breathing. “And that,” she said sharply, “is exactly why you need to stop.”

I watched her instead of anything she was checking. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her head lifted, and for half a second she looked caught between glaring and laughing.

“You all need supervision.”

Nomad spread his hands. “Thought that’s what you were here for.”

She gave him a flat look. “I’m here to make sure he doesn’t die, not referee whatever this is.”

My voice came lower before I could stop it. “You came.”

The room quieted.

Her eyes met mine, guarded and tired, carrying more than I could read from this bed. The joking disappeared as cleanly as though someone had shut off a switch.

“I said I’d check on you.”